An experiment: the piece is in response to a photo from Margo Roby’s Tuesday Tryouts. I recently did a flash fiction piece that was nothing but dialogue. This photo inspired the same idea. So, the question is – Is it poetry?
We used to bring you here
when you were little.
I remember. We would walk
around the pond and argue about
which ducks were prettier. I
think you said black just to
aggravate me. Grandma would
always wait for us on that bench.
Yes. Even then she had trouble
walking very far. She loved
being outdoors though, especially on
days like this; the colors of the leaves,
sun shining, a chill in the air, but
not quite cold….
We would collect leaves for her, then
press them into albums at home.
Used to bring her here later, too.
After you went to school.
I think she liked the fresh air.
Still have those albums.
Would you like them?
Yes, someday, but no rush.
I seem to remember you would pull
me all around this place. Never let go,
thought you would pull my shoulder out.
Still not going to let go. Never to old
to hold your hand. We should head
back Papaw. They are waiting on us
to have lunch.
They can wait a little longer. No one
in this family has starved to death yet.
True, but we can’t have them thinking
us rude, talking behind our backs.
Hrmph. Never cared much for the
I know, you always were above that.
We will come back; later today and maybe
next week if it is nice. We can bring some
bread for the ducks.
Only the black ones, not going to feed
those white ones.
I like the white ones.